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Natalie Shapero, “Long Week Talking”
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"Slip", Natalie Shapero
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hi, could i request a web on turning older. I was talking to my friend yesterday, and turning 30 seems so terrifying, at the same time it also seems normal just like another. But I'm not able to turn my back to all the responsibilities and what people expect of me, to all that i have set myself to achieve before this "30 milestone"
Absolutely love your blog btw. So glad i found you in this platform :)
megan fernandes good boys: "why we drink" (via @firstfullmoon) \\ adonis (tr. khaled mattawa) (via @soporificsedative) \\ bob dylan when the deal goes down (ia @newvision) \\ charlotte smith thirty-eight. to mrs ____y \\ natalie shapero thirty going
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First of December by Natalie Shapero
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First of December by Natalie Shapero
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HOME SCALE
This decomposing urn,
the ad assures, will turn you, when
you die, into a tree.
Might as well just turn into a tree while you’re living.
And what are they
doing, the hospital, asking again
about any self-
harm and then packing the baby into your arms,
saying avoid the dismal
and also remember it’s normal
for the baby to lose weight
in the first days, then regain it, you can check by stepping
onto a home scale holding
the baby, then you just subtract
your body from the scene.
—Natalie Shapero (Typo 26)
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not horses by Natalie Shapero
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A poem by Natalie Shapero
Long Week Talking
I am ashamed to keep thinking of death
as a chute that connects to the garbage. I know
I should picture it more like the pneumatic tubes
at banks of the past: you put in your name
and your paper and up you go. I know a bank
should be the operative metaphor
for every facet of existence, every time. I’m sorry
I haven’t more regularly made reference
to a bank. When I fail to liken something to a bank,
that’s how I can tell I’m tired. That’s not me,
I assure everybody. That’s the long week talking. Time
for bed. Time for the window, the hectoring sky,
the streetlight bright as the bright saved people
see before they die, but I don’t die.
Natalie Shapero
Listen to Natalie Shapero read and discuss her poem.
Natalie Shapero says of her poem: There was a sense in which I didn’t want to write another poem about death, but there was also a sense in which I did want to do this, and so I settled on a first line that, taken on its own, serves as a kind of apology, or at least an introductory, undermining gesture. Read together with the lines that follow, though, it just goes ahead and does the thing it says it’s ashamed of doing. I guess I like to have it both ways.
Copyright © 2023 by Natalie Shapero. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on September 4, 2023, by the Academy of American Poets.
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-- Natalie Shapero
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How I have killed to live and live / like this, unwell, unwelcome and unmoored and still / I have killed for it and would again.
Natalie Shapero, from “Flags and Axes”
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Natalie Shapero (pub. in American Poetry Review)
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Isolette by Natalie Shapero
So they can put a man on the moon, but they won’t
make a way for a living adult to go back and elect
to have never existed. To save from being raped
the person who had the person who had the person
who had the person who had me, would I give up
my life? Yeah, I would. I mean who
needs it:
the hospital by the highway, the isolette, flat sheet —
I would give it all up ever and backward to save you,
even though, let’s face it, what did you do
for me? For my wooly moment, which to you
is the future? Did you force a new world in which
I would be protected? That’s a no. But I’m not
petty. I am in fact an enemy of the fixation with things
being square, the check split down to the penny.
It’s my pleasure. It’s
my pleasure. It’s my treat.
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